


Lift Me, Catch Me (The Way That You Do)

by inspirit11



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 19:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18288332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspirit11/pseuds/inspirit11
Summary: “I missed you,” Doyoung whines softly, after pulling down his scarf with one arm while the other stayed firmly around Yuta. “I missed you so much.”“Baby,” Yuta sighs, “It’s only been three days. You had to finish that composition or Professor Moon would’ve killed you.” As if he hadn’t yearned for him just as much.Doyoung sniffs indignantly. “We could have kept our hands off each other.”





	Lift Me, Catch Me (The Way That You Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ellie Goulding's 'Love me like you do.' I know its a little cliche but like. i think it fits.

There are snowflakes in Doyoung’s hair. That’s the first thing he notices about the boy standing outside the Performing Arts’ department’s building waiting for him – the shards of white melting into inky black. It’s late evening, most of the students have already escaped for winter break so the street is empty, even if he knows that there are still people milling about in the building.

The second thing he notices is the way Doyoung’s burrowing into his thick, fluffy white scarf, covering everything but his eyes as he shivers. The rest of him is lovely too, of course, sharp, slender lines cloaked in his brand-new black trench coat that he’d debated buying for an hour before Yuta had threatened to buy it for him himself if he wouldn’t stop being dramatic.

As if Doyoung could be anything but.

He stands there like a beautiful black and white photo, and Yuta feels his heart pounding with the renewed realisation this ethereal boy is his to cherish. Somehow, he knows the feeling will never truly fade.

Yuta can’t see his mouth but he sees the way Doyoung’s eyes light up when he draws closer, hands slowly making their way out of his pockets where they’d been jammed so he can reach for Yuta. Doyoung pulls him in even as he opens his mouth to greet him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and face dipping to press into his neck.  

Yuta can’t pretend to be any less enthusiastic, holding Doyoung as close as he can by the waist, clutching his coat. He loses himself in the scent of Doyoung’s cologne, smiles as he feels Doyoung shiver at the cold pinpricks of Yuta’s earrings against his skin.

“I missed you,” Doyoung whines softly, after pulling down his scarf with one arm while the other stayed firmly around Yuta. “I missed you so much.”

“Baby,” Yuta sighs, “It’s only been three days. You had to finish that composition or Professor Moon would’ve killed you.” As if he hadn’t yearned for him just as much.

Doyoung sniffs indignantly. “We could have kept our hands off each other.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but I know I can’t even think about translating Korean literature when I could be kissing you instead.” He punctuates his words by brushing Doyoung’s cheek with his lips, relishing his small gasp.

His sweet boy’s mouth twists in irritation. Before he can argue anymore, which he undoubtedly wants to, Yuta kisses him on the lips. He’s enamoured by so many things about Doyoung but his mouth, his lovely lips and his breath-taking smile and his adorable scowl are among his favourite, so he kisses him softly, gently licking into his mouth.

Once he can bear to, he pulls away, staying close enough that he can still feel puffs of Doyoung’s breath on his face.

“We would’ve gotten everything done, even if we’d been near each other,” he insists, in that voice he uses when he thinks he’s being cute (he’s so cute, Yuta can’t bear it sometimes).

Yuta just sighs, takes his hand and starts walking towards his apartment.

As they walk, Doyoung opens Yuta’s bag and digs through it, muttering about how cluttered it is before triumphantly pulling out a black messenger cap and wearing it, even though it does nothing to alleviate the redness of his ears. It’s his but Doyoung steals it every chance he gets. Yuta rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up as he looks at him, even when Doyoung resolutely looks ahead, smug expression fixed on his face.

(“I look better in it than you, you know I do,” he boasts. He’s admiring himself in the mirror at Yuta’s vanity while Yuta lounges on the bed, admiring him. His long legs, the bruises littering his thighs and chest, his impish grin.

Yuta protests “You can’t have it, you brat,” but Doyoung leaves with it the next morning and the game begins. Neither of them ever mentions how Yuta always keeps it where Doyoung can find it without too much effort.)

“You should watch where you’re going before you trip on something. I’ll only laugh at you if you fall,” Doyoung snipes.

Yuta lets go of Doyoung’s hand and wraps that arm around his waist to dig his fingers into the other boy’s side, making him yelp.

“Don’t!” Doyoung gasps in between giggles.

Yuta smirks and keeps tickling him even as he pulls him along.

“Worry about yourself, love,” he says amiably, a contrast to how he’s struggling to keep Doyoung in his hold.

Doyoung grows still at the endearment and Yuta can see the blush bloom across his pale cheeks before he resolutely pushes Yuta’s arm away and pushes up his scarf so that most of his face is hidden again.

“You can’t still be shy, baby,” Yuta teases. “You know how I feel.”

Doyoung just whines and shoves his shoulder, quickening his pace so that Yuta’s ambling after him. Yuta outright laughs and follows sedately.

They walk in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before finally arriving at Yuta’s apartment. Doyoung’s already unlocked the door with the spare key Yuta had given him the previous Christmas (along with a pretty white cashmere turtleneck that’d dented Yuta’s wallet painfully but was worth it when he’d seen Doyoung tenderly hug it to his chest). Doyoung had been anxious, afraid of taking such a step and messing with the balance they’d cultivated thus far but had carefully added it to his keychain at Yuta’s gentle encouragement.

Now Yuta can’t imagine a time when Doyoung won’t let himself into his studio whenever he wants, immediately putting on the kettle to make the chamomile tea that Yuta keeps especially for him, right next to his own special matcha from Osaka, and settling on the couch, favourite mug in hand as he curls up with a textbook or a novel, waiting for Yuta to join him. Doyoung treats Yuta’s home like it’s his own, never hesitating to take what he wants or leave bits of himself behind, and Yuta treasures that.

He locks the door behind him and takes off his shoes hangs his coat at the stand where Doyoung’s trench coat and scarf are already hanging. Doyoung is humming something bright and nimble, likely the composition he’d just finished writing, as he grabs both their mugs and finds their tea bags. There’s a small hitch in his breath when Yuta holds his waist from behind, pressing soft kisses against the back of his neck, but he just grips Yuta’s hands with his own and keeps humming.

“I love you,” Yuta murmurs. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“I love you too,” Doyoung replies. “Even when you’re infuriatingly adamant about doing the right thing. I still love you.”

“I know, baby,” Yuta says, mirth lacing his voice. “I know.”

Once the kettle’s done and he’s poured the water into the mugs, he carries them to Yuta’s bedroom, placing them on the bedside table while Yuta finds them both more comfortable clothes to change into.  A few of Doyoung’s pyjama pants have made it into Yuta’s closet but he insists on wearing Yuta’s t-shirts. They change quickly and settle on the bed, pressed together at the shoulders.

Doyoung holds his face and kisses him, more forcefully than Yuta had done when they were outside. Doyoung kisses him intently, thoroughly, mapping out his mouth and stroking Yuta’s cheekbones reverently with his thumbs. Yuta responds in kind, drinking in his fill of Doyoung. He can’t believe how good it feels to have him back in his arms, even three days of separation leaving him aching, weak with longing.

He hadn’t known, a year ago, that this infuriating, lovely boy that had followed Jaehyun to soccer practice one day would become so precious to him. He hadn’t known that Jaehyun’s friend who liked to tease and gripe and even mock him would be the one to work up the courage to confess to him first, to ask shyly to kiss him, to declare them boyfriends even though Yuta knew how nervous he was. Jaehyun and Johnny had laughed at him for days, but it was worth it to be with Doyoung.

Doyoung breaks the kiss to grab both their mugs. He starts drinking immediately while Yuta blows on his own tea to cool it down a little more.

“Did you manage to finish your translations on time?” Doyoung asks.

Yuta hums affirmatively. “They took forever though. I can’t believe I submitted them on time.” Yuta laughs at himself while Doyoung huffs leaning in to gently bite his earlobe in reprimand.

“Of course you submitted them on time. You’re brilliant.”

“You just want to make me blush.”

“You are,” Doyoung insists, “Don’t argue with someone who’s smarter than you.” Yuta snickers. Doyoung pouts and sips his tea.

They drink peacefully, shedding the winter chill from outside and savouring the peace that came with knowing there would be holidays for the foreseeable future and they could spend as much time as they wanted wrapped up in each other, at least till one of their friends came knocking on the door to drag them away. Though Yuta thinks that nothing in the world could pull him away from Doyoung in this moment.

The sun’s fully set by the time they put their mugs down and curl up under the covers, arms around each other and sharing gentle kisses.

“I want to hear the composition,” Yuta says against Doyoung’s jaw, leaving a trail of kisses up to his ear, “That’s what you were humming in the kitchen, right? It sounded nice.”

Doyoung grins, kisses Yuta’s nose. “I thought of you a little, when I was working out the melody.”

“Yeah?”

“About how smug and arrogant and self-righteous you can be,” Doyoung teases, pressing kisses to Yuta’s cheek in between words. “How happy you make me.”

And Yuta can’t not slot their lips together at that, overcome by the need to show Doyoung exactly how much he means to him. Doyoung moans into his mouth and he kisses him harder, feels the warm skin at the small of Doyoung’s back under his t-shirt.

And then Doyoung has to pull away to yawn and the spell is broken, the mood shifting back to playful. Yuta shakes with silent laughter as Doyoung buries his head in his pillow in embarrassment.

“I’ve had a long day,” he whines softly. “Be nice to me.”

“I know, love,” he replies, grinning like the fool he knows he is. “Let’s get some rest. We can pick this up again in the morning.”

“Hmm, you can get the light,” Doyoung says and closes his eyes before Yuta can say a word. Yuta sighs, kisses his forehead and, with effort, pushes himself out of bed to turn the light off so they can both get the sleep they deserve.

He gets back into bed and holds his sweet boy close, knowing that tomorrow, they’ll be ready to face the new day together.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hesitate to point out any typos or mistakes to me! 
> 
> catch me on tumblr yelling about these boys [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cantwritethisdown)


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